At least there were Arthur's Strawberry Secrets to console him. Sidney would have preferred a Chivas Regal, but it was too early in the day for the strong stuff. He still had not managed to hit that punching ball. Instead, he had been waylaid by Tom on the stairs to the gym and lured into the Conservatory for some brother-talk. "I've never been so pleased to see you," Tom said. "But you are not alone, are you? I had thought you would bring some friends with you."

"Rest easy. Babington and Crowe are on their way down to Sanditon right now. They'll be in time for the ball." If they did not take a detour to the casino in Brighton on the way and got stuck there.

"Splendid. Splendid! I knew I could depend on you, Sidney. London's society shining bright in Sanditon – even Lady Denham will have to concede that we are well on our way to becoming one of Britain's top holiday destinations."

Sidney's mouth twitched. He would not have described his friends as the shining beacons of London's society. Crowe enjoyed a certain popularity due to his Instagram account that defied all rules of social media. Babington's mother was rumoured to have had an affair with the Prince of Wales once, long time before the Prince's wedding with the ill-fated Lady Diana, and also a long time before her marriage and the birth of her only son, but that was about as glamorous as it got. "Is everything ok, Tom?" he asked.

"Yes. Yes, of course." His brother hastily stuffed another bite of Strawberry Secret into his mouth.

"And the extension? All going according to plan on Regency Row?"

"Sure." Tom gulped. "The first units are sold for the summer. I think we'll open by the time of the Midsummer Ball. Stringer Junior is very enthusiastic."

"Good," Sidney said. He had met Tom's new architect a couple of times and knew that he was a keen and ambitious young man whose only fault was his lack of experience. Which on the other hand meant that he charged lower fees. He sighed. "And on the financial side? Any trouble?"

Tom shrugged his shoulders. "Nothing to worry you. You know how it is, Sidney – everyone's a bit tight after the winter. But that's old news as soon as the wedding season starts. And then I've got Miss Heywood now to assist me with the accounts. A very capable young woman."

"Is she," Sidney mumbled. Tom's assessment of other people was nothing he had a deep trust in. His brother's criteria were simple: Whoever fell in love with his hotel was a good person. Thankfully, his phone started ringing before he had to discuss Miss Heywood's capabilities any further. It was Gigi Lambe's headmistress, making sure for the tenth time that he would show up Sunday at around lunchtime and relieve her of her former charge. By the time he had finished the call, he was in desperate need of that punching ball in the gym.

x

Charlotte was exceedingly excited about the ball – even if it meant following the orders of the F&B manager and balancing trays full of champagne glasses through a crowd of people for a whole night. At her temp job in Bristol, functions had usually consisted of conferences or product launches, but never of a great event in a Regency style ballroom lit by one large and several small chandeliers, with a live orchestra and musicians wearing white wigs as if they had come straight out of a period drama, and a singer brought in from Glasgow only for the occasion. To Charlotte, it seemed to be the most exclusive event – even though to a Londoner it might have been nothing more than a small town's attempt at being grand.

Positioned at the entrance and welcoming new guests with champagne flutes, she did not care that she had to work here while her colleagues enjoyed themselves. She had never been to a ball before and would have had no idea what to do or to say at such an event anyway.

Esther, looking like a stunning film star from the Forties in a green silk dress that complimented her long auburn tresses, moved towards her. "How I envy you," she said. "The only one of us doing anything useful."

"You can carry my tray if you like to."

"Oh, no. I'm a Denham. My aunt doesn't mind me selling stamps to tourists and taking orders from the pillow menu, but when it comes to an event that is likely to make it to the Sussex Observer, old rules prevail, and we are to play our part in society. - You're quite the Cinderella, I'm afraid. And if you're looking for a prince, I daresay this is the wrong place."

"I'm not looking for a prince," Charlotte said. Then she blushed, not because of the insinuation, but because Lady Denham was arriving, accompanied by a demure-looking Clara. Charlotte found it hard to meet her eye and even harder when Edward Denham appeared a few steps behind them, looking all sleek and stylish in his black tie.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I think that's Mr Parker calling me. Enjoy the evening, Esther." – and she hurried away to the banqueting galley, collecting empty glasses on her way. How hard it was to make people out!

She used the moment of peace to adjust the pinafore on her black dress and to massage her arm before returning to the crowd. Only then did she realise that the door was blocked by the tall figure of Edward Denham. "That uniform suits you," he said.

"Thank you." Charlotte could not bring herself to look up at him.

"I would like to…" He stopped, and she grabbed an empty tray to have a shield between him and herself. "What you saw today…"

"Please, would you let me do my work?"

"But I want to make sure that you should not get the wrong impression. Clara… Clara was –"

"There is absolutely no need for you to explain yourself to me," Charlotte said with a sharpness that surprised her herself.

"But… you promise you won't speak of it to Mr Parker? Or Lady Denham? Or anyone else?"

"Do you really think I would?" Now she was not only repulsed but angered as well. He gave her a crooked grin and let his eyes travel down her body.

"No, of course not. You're altogether too good, too innocent, aren't you?"

At that, thankfully, the F&B manager stormed into the galley. "What do you think you are you doing here, Heywood? Dawdling around?" Manoel said. "In case you haven't noticed, there are two-hundred thirsty guests out there. – I'm sorry," he added when Edward had left the scene. "He has a weakness for the female catering staff. Always goes after the new ones and tells them how pretty they look in their uniforms."

"Thank you," Charlotte said from the bottom of her heart.

When she started her next round of dispensing champagne, Mr Parker waved her over to a group of people he was talking to. Esther was among them, and Clara, and Sidney Parker and two other men. Those had to be the famous London friends. One of them, a tall curly-head who seemed to have forgotten his combe, immediately grabbed two glasses from her tray. "Finally something to get the motor oiled", he said, drained the first glass and returned it.

"This is my management trainee, Charlotte Heywood," Mr Parker said. "Charlotte, have you met my brother Sidney?"

"I have," Charlotte said. Sidney acknowledged her with a curt nod.

"Splendid." Mr Parker clapped his hands. "I'd like you to…. – oh, Mr Hankins! What a joy! I'm sorry, my dears, I have to welcome our expert for law and order..." – and he moved away to greet the constable who even in a black-tie still looked like a policeman.

As the orchestra started playing a waltz, Sidney Parker's curly-headed friend drained the second glass and put it on Charlotte's tray, then held out his hand to Clara. "Shall we?" With a sweet smile, Clara obliged.

Sidney Parker's other friend, a slightly shorter, stout man with a friendly face, turned to Esther. "What about it?"

"What about what?"

"A waltz?" He had a rather kind smile and seemed not to be intimidated by the fact that with her high heels, he had to look up to her.

"Oh. I expected a verb."

"Just waltz then. Works as a verb and as a noun."

Esther rolled her eyes. Yet she did accept his outstretched hand, leaving Charlotte alone with a tray of empty glasses and Sidney Parker glaring down at her. "Are you fond of dancing?" he asked after a few painful seconds.

"I am," she admitted with a little surprise. "Though not very talented at balancing champagne flutes on my head while engaging in twist and twirls." There was a twitch around his mouth as if he was going to break into a smile but then he stopped himself at the very last moment.

"Must be hard for you, working while everybody else is having fun."

"It was part of the job description," Charlotte said. "Also, I come to enjoy the more comfortable footwear. No blisters tomorrow." This time, Sidney Parker did smile, and that simple smile turned him from a good-looking man into a breath-taking film star. Even more so in a black tie, with his handsome face clean-shaven and his short dark curls neatly combed back. Charlotte cleared her throat.

"I better take care of the champagne supply. Enjoy the rest of the evening, Mr Parker." She hurried away without turning back.

For the next couple of hours, she was busy enough, collecting empty glasses and serving drinks, sharing smiles and a bit of small talk with the guests. Yet she made sure to keep her distance from Sidney Parker and his circle. She saw Clara and Esther dance with his friends once more, and for a second, she truly felt like Cinderella. She saw Mr Parker feeding cocktails to Constable Hankins, and then she saw Mary and Mr Parker dance together, gazing into each other's eyes as if they were newly in love. Jenny insisted on taking her Uncle Arthur to the dancefloor. Alicia followed suit and curtseyed in front of her Uncle Sidney, who gathered her up, so that they were face to face, and waltzed with her about the room, the little girl beaming with happiness. It was the cutest thing Charlotte had seen all evening. Maybe he really isn't that bad after all, she thought.

Arthur Parker, it turned out, was quite an enthusiast, and when the orchestra had a break, and the DJ took over, he showed a startling ability to twist and turn his robust body. "Arthur!" his sister Diana cried more than once from the sideline, but the louder she cried, the merrier he danced.

Charlotte also made sure to take detours around the box from which Lady Denham watched on, mostly accompanied by her nephew who kept whispering in her ear. They were a strange family, indeed.

"Can we speak?" She nearly bumped into Clara, who suddenly stood behind her.

"Of course," Charlotte said, catching her tray.

"I saw Edward following you outside earlier. Was he… did he say… anything about… what you saw?"

"Yes, he did."

"And what did he say?" Charlotte suppressed a sigh. She really was not interested in getting caught up in some relationship-meddling between these two. Clara and Edward were both old enough to know what they were doing, and as long as they were both consenting and did not resort to the utility room again, she did not care.

"He asked me not to speak of what I have seen to Mr Parker or Lady Denham." Clara's doll-like eyes flared.

"And will you speak of it to Mr Parker or Lady Denham?"

"What? Of course not."

"You might if you wanted to."

"I don't want to." Charlotte was definitely vexed now. "It's none of my business."

"No, it really isn't," Clara said with a pensive look. "You're far too decent for that." Behind her, Mr Curly-Head approached, tapping her on the shoulder.

"Can I tempt you back onto the dance floor, Clara?" With a very pretty smile, she took his hand.

"Absolutely."

Charlotte watched the two of them walk away, Clara smiling and flirting as if she had no other care in the world. How very hard it was to make people out! Sidney Parker, that superficial idiot, turning into a rather sweet uncle, and Clara, the kind and doll-like housekeeper, transforming into someone resembling Lady Macbeth.

She needed a break and some air to gather her wits. Manoel was in the banqueting galley, nodding immediately when she asked for some minutes off. "Take your time," he said. "The night will not be over for you before dawn."

She was in no mind to go to the sticky staff canteen or the back entrance where the smokers gathered. Instead, she decided to have a look at the ball from the balcony above the dancefloor. According to Mr Parker, it had been installed in the original Sanditon assembly rooms to accommodate the Prince Regent during a Royal visit. Unfortunately, His Highness had never shown up, but the possibility of him doing so had become something like a running gag in Sanditon. Curious about what to expect, Charlotte lifted the drapes.

x

That little dance with Alicia had been delightful. Sidney smiled at the memory of it, of his niece's beaming eyes, her small hands trustfully grabbing his, and her happy shrieks of laughter when he whirled her around. Did Tom even know how lucky he was to have such a family?

He leaned against the balustrade of the balcony and took another sip of Chivas Regal. Why did he feel like an outlier most of the time? Why did he prefer to hide on a balcony when everyone else was having fun? Why was he unable to lose himself in a superficial ballroom acquaintance, just as Crowe and Babington did, following Clara Brereton and Esther Denham about like hungry dogs? What was he waiting for? Or was it a question of who he was waiting for?

He gazed down to the dancefloor. Tom's ball was a success, at least there was no doubt about that. It was close to midnight now, and the crowd was still strong, gathering around the Gaelic singer his brother had brought in from Glasgow. He saw Mr Hankins clap enthusiastically, and Lady Denham tap her cane to the strange and arcane song. His brothers were both joining the dance, Tom with wild and fantastic moves, Arthur jumping up and down and to the left and right as if he was a glowing rubber ball.

For a moment, Sidney wished he could be more like them. He was all too aware of the fact that here in Sanditon, he was deemed the successful brother, the one that had broken with family tradition, the one that had left the small town and the hotel business behind and made a totally different career. The one that drove a car worth a comfortable family home in a pretty London suburb.

And yet, while he was watching his brothers go crazy about a Gaelic melody, he could not help but think how much easier his life would be if he were just a little more like them. If only he could find joy where Arthur did: in kneading a pastry dough, in pouring a shiny chocolate glazing, in placing a perfectly shaped strawberry on top of a delicious cake – unaffected by long working hours, laughable pay and a threat of diabetes.

If he could find satisfaction in the knowledge that he kept a family tradition alive, like Tom did, devoting every day of his life to the success of Sanditon and the fight against financial instabilities, just to ensure that one distant day, he could hand the hotel over to the next generation of Parker siblings.

But he was different. As things stood, his greatest joy was the commission cheques he received from his clients. And as to satisfaction… the Aston Martin was meant to provide that, but it always only lasted as long as the motor was roaring.

He drained the Chivas Regal and prepared himself to return to the crowd when the drapes at the entrance to the balcony moved. It was Charlotte Heywood, blushing when she saw him. "Oh, I'm sorry."

"Not necessary," he said with a smile that surprised himself. She had been working hard that evening, she definitely deserved a break. It actually spoke for her that she preferred the airy balcony to the smokers' corner and the sticky staff canteen with its ugly plastic chairs. He watched her as she moved towards the balustrade and looked down on the crowd. "A penny for your thoughts, Miss Heywood."

She sighed. "I was thinking about how very hard it is to make people out."

He wondered whether he had had her wrong, whether she was not a nerd, but a flirt after all. She certainly looked more like a flirt in that figure-hugging service uniform, with some dark strands escaping from her ponytail and her cheeks reddened from the exertion of balancing trays around increasingly inebriated guests. That was if one liked large eyes and curvy shapes in a girl. He preferred the blonde, petite type. The ladylike type.

She was still staring at the crowd, her face showing an expression of wonder.

"Did anyone in particular confound you?" he asked.

"Oh." She looked up as if caught out. "Just people in general. That's what I find fascinating about working in a hotel. There are so many guests from so many places to observe… but it is hard to form a reliable judgement. People can be so difficult to interpret, don't you find?"

"Some people can." Sidney saw her pensive, even slightly puzzled look. Then he heard himself ask: "And what have you observed about me on our small acquaintance?"

Did he really say that? Now he was the flirt. But she took it with a smile - and a rather charming smile at that. "I think that you must be the sensible brother of the three."

It was not what he had expected, not from someone blushing like a schoolgirl whenever they met. "And what makes you say that?"

She did not blush again but looked more confident now. "Well, I may be mistaken, but it seems to me that your brother Arthur is of a very easy nature, seeking indulgence where he should exert moderation, due to his health issues. And I think that Mr Parker could be called over-enthusiastic. I am afraid that despite his good nature, he neglects his family and sometimes even the rule of law in his devotion to the hotel. Don't you agree?"

No, Sidney did not agree.

For a moment, it was as if all music, all clapping on the dancefloor had ceased, and they were all alone together in the ballroom. She was gazing at him with those large brown eyes as if she was expecting his approval. He did not approve.

"You are very free with your opinions, Miss Heywood."

"I'm sorry, I did not mean to…" She looked flustered, and deservedly so. Was that a dimple on her chin? It only added to his anger.

"Upon what experience of the world do you form your judgements?" he asked.

"I – I…"

"Where have you been? Nowhere, apparently, except for school. What have you learnt there? Nothing, it would seem. And yet you take it upon yourself to criticise people you barely know." He saw her gasp, but he had no pity for her. "What do you think, which is the better way to live? To pursue a career for materialistic reasons, or to expend your energy in trying to leave your mark, to keep and protect something that has been beloved through generations? That is what my brother Tom is trying to do with the hotel, at the expense of a great deal of effort and anxiety, in a good cause in which all Parkers do our best to support him." The girl looked as if she was going to faint. Yet he could not stop now. "And you see it fit to amuse yourself at his expense, even to accuse him of criminal conduct?"

"I… I'm sorry – I have offended you. I do apologise," she said. He saw the tears welling up in her eyes, the tremble of her lips. It only made his anger grow stronger.

"Offended me?" He raised an eyebrow, staring down at her dismissively. "No, you haven't offended me. I'm the one at fault. I should not have expected any more from a girl with so little understanding. Excuse me."

He turned on his heel and left, but he did not return to the ballroom. The gym was locked now, but he knew where Diana kept the spare key. That punching ball definitely had had it coming.